There was no line between dream and waking. There hadn't been since the mirror shattered.


The counterfeit Celeste the reflection presented to them, her demeanor peaceful, her smile nigh tender. Light rippled around her, distorting reality into impossible curves. Her flesh glimmered with the translucency of glass under moonlight, and beneath it, threads of liquid silver beat rhythmically alive, conscious.


Behind her, the air wavered like a pond thrown into turbulence by a stone. Through it, they saw Blackthorn or something assuming its form. The streets drowned in fog, and from the fog, silhouettes shifted. Not human. Hungry shadows.


The god under Blackthorn was awakening.


Armand's hand held the blood-stick knife more firmly. The true Celeste moved forward, her eyes on her reflection.


You're a crack," she told him. "A shadow that shouldn't be."


The mirror cocked its head to the side. "You believe shadows are mistakes? No. They're the sole reality that light permits."


"Why are you doing this?" Armand barked.


The eyes of the reflection flashed to him. "Because all vows you made were etched into me. I am the guardian of what you two were too cowardly to become. The god slumbers because of your mercy—your refusal. I will awaken him, and he will heal the world again."


Celeste's voice fell, dripping with venom. "Whole? Or obedient?"


The reflection smiled. "Does it matter? Peace appears the same from afar.


Armand stepped forward, sword drawn now. “You’ll destroy everything.”


“Destroy?” The reflection’s form flickered, shifting between solidity and smoke. “No. I’ll reset it.”


Then the mirrors that encircled the room started humming. Their glass rippled, revealing dozens of worlds each a version of Blackthorn. In some, Celeste was queen. In others, Armand was already deceased. In one, both of them were monsters. The reflections started to step out of their glass jail, one by one, blending into the air.


Celeste breathed softly, "She's calling on all the versions of us that might have existed."


"Then we finish her before she does," Armand snarled.


He attacked.


The mirror met him halfway.


Their blades struck with a crash that sounded like thunder. Black fire sparks flew into the air. Celeste darted between them, stabbing with her dagger, pushing the reflection back a step but the injury closed in a matter of moments, light threads sewing it shut.


"You can't kill me," the reflection replied calmly, deflecting another blow. "You created me. I am your fear, your lust, your doubt."


Celeste's jaw tightened. "Then I'll burn what I created."


She lifted both hands, speaking words ancient as the mirror itself. The air trembled. Fire, white and ethereal, burst from her hands, twisting like ribbons of silk. It hit the reflection squarely burning its way through her form, her features melting into shards of glass that hit the floor.


Armand dropped his sword stiffly, breathing hard. "Is it?"


The shards quivered.


Then, with a hiss of breathing, they started to come up, churning in a whirl. The reflection remade itself, stronger, taller, her eyes now burning silver.


"You always forget," she breathed, her voice now multilayered, echoing. "Destruction feeds creation."


She stuck out a hand, and air solidified. Invisible force slammed Armand to the other side of the room. He crashed to the floor hard, blood spraying from his mouth. Celeste screamed his name and spun but too late. The reflection grabbed her by the throat and lifted her with ease.


I recall when you pleaded," the reflection sneered. "You were still human back then. You prayed for immortality, and immortality granted it to you. Do you regret it yet?"


Celeste gasped, straining, flailing at the reflection's hold. Her eyes dimly glowed red. "I regret. nothing.


She spun about, thrusting her knee upwards into the reflection's ribs. The grip slipped. Celeste thudded to the floor, rolled, and hurled the silver dagger. It shot through the air and sank into the reflection's chest. The creature screamed, the scream a thousand voices blended as one.


The mirrors shattered.


Armand lurched upright, vision blurring. "Now! Celeste!"


She spun to him, her eyes wild. "The god he's not waking. He's watching."


The earth trembled. Cracks webbed across the glass beneath their feet, spreading outward. Through them, black light poured like blood, pulsing with the beat of a heartbeat.


A sound issued from below, deep, wet, and old.


A voice.


"YOU CALLED. I REMEMBER."


Celeste's eyes went wide. "No…" 


The reflection smiled quietly. "Yes. You remember too."


The cracks spread apart. From inside, the hands started rising gigantic, clawed, composed of bone and shadow. The air became cold in an instant. Each breath turned into mist.


Armand pulled on Celeste's arm. "We have to go!"


"There is nowhere to go," she replied emptily. "This is the heart of the mirror. All roads lead to one spot."


And then the god started to come out.


It did not crawl it unfolded. The air curved to admit it, reality taut as cloth. The creature's shape was changing all the time: a mirror skeleton, a face composed of darkness, wings of memories of every soul ever damned in Blackthorn. Its eyes were two suns seeping shadow.


Armand fell to his knees under the weight of its gaze. His blood began to boil, his vision searing white. The god’s voice was everywhere.


“THE BLOOD OF CREATORS RETURNS. ONE MADE THE BINDING. ONE BROKE IT. BOTH WILL SUFFER.”


Celeste stumbled forward, shaking. “No… we didn’t summon you. We tried to end it!”


“ENDINGS ARE BEGINNINGS.”


The reflection approached the god, bowing her head. “I have freed you, my lord.”


The god's eyes turned to her. For an instant, the whole room was frozen. Then it spoke once more, softer, blacker.


"YOU ARE A SHADOW. SHADOWS DO NOT SPEAK."


The reflection stilled. Then, before Celeste could do anything, the god's hand came down seizing the reflection and smashing it into oblivion. Glass poured down, shattering into powder.


Celeste cried out, backing away as the god turned its attention to her.


"Celeste!" Armand's voice cut through the din. He stood now, his sword afire with otherworldly light—the same color as the glyphs once etched on the manor door.


"I can hold him," he yelled. "But you must finish it!"


"How?"


"Use what remains of the mirror. Bind him again!"


Celeste gazed about. The broken fragments of the Mirror of Destiny hung in the air, slowly spinning like shards of a world around a burning star. They still emitted faintly a glow of power. She reached out with her hand, and they floated one by one toward her, settling into her skin, joining to her arms, her chest, her face.


She gasped. "It's too much I can't"


"You can!" Armand strained, his sword falling into the chest of the god. Black blood hissed where it hit the ground. "Celeste, now!"


She spread her arms, speaking words she didn't know she knew. The shards flared, the light searing. The god howled, attempting to struggle free, but invisible bands of energy erupted from the ground, binding around its limbs.


"FOOLS. YOU CANNOT CAGE A GOD."


Celeste's voice pierced the din, shaking but cold. "We already did once."


The light grew hotter until the very air was ablaze. The mirrors that ringed them burst apart, showing glimpses of other worlds, other timelines folding into this one. All souls that had ever been ensnared by the curse howled as they were dragged towards the center, into the body of the god, into the spell.


Then all ceased.


There was silence.


Celeste opened her eyes.


The god was absent. The air was quiet.


She spun around, looking. "Armand?"


He lay on the floor. Still. Too still.


She sprinted to him, dropping to her knees, shuddering him awake. "Armand no, please"


His eyes slowly came open, unfocused. "Is it over?"


She smiled frailly through tears. "I think so."


He breathed out, his hand stroking her cheek. "Then… we made it."


"Yes." She lowered her head, pressing her forehead against his. "Rest. Just rest."


But as his eyelids fell shut, something struck her. A glint, a flickering across the shattered glass under him. His face but not his. The eyes in the reflection were silver.


Celeste stood still.


She gazed down at him. The slightest smile appeared on his lips but it was wrong. Too tranquil. Too knowing.


"Armand?" she breathed.


He opened his eyes.


They were no longer brown.


They were mirrored.


Celeste is convinced that the god is exorcised and the mirror shattered but in the process, Armand has taken in some of its essence. He is no longer completely human… and possibly no longer completely himself.